New

October 11, 2012

There have been times I have wanted to delete this blog and start over from scratch. I would look back on previous post and be reminded of the many lessons I have learned the hard way over the last several years. I always seem to ‘forget’ that I was far from healthy at that time and it was amazing that I was doing as well as I was. When I have had friends confide in me about their struggles it has been easy for me to show them Grace, but as soon as it was me who was struggling or making mistakes there was no way that same Christ-given Grace could apply to me. I never truly felt worthy.
I have always felt a strong draw towards the sacrament of Holy Communion and having the opportunity to serve Communion throughout my life as a United Methodist gave me another perspective of it. When I was little, I experience a wide variety of traditions. Several times I had to “sit out” because I did not meet certain qualifications, was not a member of the denomination, was too young, etc. Even as an elementary schooler there was something magical and beautiful about Communion and I longed to be able to participate, sometimes even trying to recreate it at home or with my friends. Maybe others thought I was strange, but it was an experience that part of me craved (and not just because I thought bread and grape juice went well together).

Recently, I embarked on a journey to figure out who I am and what brings me peace. I found a church home that reminded me where I thrive. Last Sunday, I joined Susanna Wesley United Methodist Church on no other Sunday but World Communion Sunday. I could have chosen a different day, but this was an opportunity I could not pass up! I took it as an opportunity to examine what made the Last Supper so appealing to me. I thought about my experiences growing up and the times I got to serve Communion and what feelings I had at those times. I used to think that I was fond of Communion because of the experience I had with others, being able to share that symbol of the Grace of God. I tossed those thoughts back and forth inside my head and the feelings in my heart and as I was sitting in the pew on Sunday morning, eagerly waiting to join my new church home- it hit me. It was more personal than that.

Going back to the beginning of this post, I wrote about the pain I felt while looking back on the not so great parts of my history. I knew that God loved me no matter what, but I did not believe that His Grace could ever apply to me. At least, I did not let myself know that I believed it could. Last Sunday, I realized that every Communion experience I have ever had has reminded me of the hope we have in God and through His son, Jesus. To me, Communion is a reminder of God’s Grace and the sacrifice he made by giving us Jesus to save us from our sins, our flaws, our humanness. It does not matter what I have done in the past, the lessons I learned much later than most, the relationships I damaged. None of it matters. What matters is that through the beautiful, amazing, breathtaking Grace, we are being made new.

This is such an exciting thing to remember as I am going along this terrifying journey into adulthood. The changes that have occurred in my life in the last two-ish years are proof that I am being made new and my experiences are proof that God has had an overwhelming hand in my life.